Storing Up Trouble Read online

  Beatrix smiled. “Thank you.” She took a bite, swallowed, then nodded. “Returning to your family, have they always been society?”

  He took a bite of his apple, chewed it for a few seconds, then shook his head. “No, at least not on my father’s side. My grandfather began mining iron ore back in the forties. He found a large deposit on some land he’d purchased, which then led him to build an iron foundry in Chicago a few years later. That foundry became quite profitable, which allowed my grandfather, and then my father, to expand into steel mills. With their success came invitations to society events and introductions to the reigning belles of the day, of which my mother was one.” With that, Norman took another bite of his apple and descended into silence, seeming to be perfectly content to end the conversation there.

  Beatrix frowned. “You really are inept at the whole chitchat business, aren’t you?”

  “I never said I was inept. I said I don’t have an aptitude for it.”

  “You admitted you’ve had decorum instructors, so I have to imagine those instructors broached the subject of how to go about participating in proper conversations. With that said, you’ve just neglected a basic rule of conversation—that being when someone has inquired about your life, you reciprocate by inquiring about theirs.”

  “You’re upset that I didn’t inquire about your societal standing?”

  “Upset wouldn’t be the word I’d choose. Curious would suit the occasion better.”

  Norman polished off his apple and shrugged. “I was trying to spare you the embarrassment of admitting that you don’t have any societal standing.”

  Of anything Beatrix had been expecting him to say, that hadn’t crossed her mind. “Why would you assume I don’t travel in society?”

  “Because you’re a confirmed spinster. You’re also traveling alone, which suggests you’re not a lady of means. Ladies without means are rarely of the society set.”

  That he kept bringing up her spinster status set her teeth on edge and had her abandoning any thought of disclosing the fact that she was a lady of means, and great means at that, or that she was a member of the illustrious New York Four Hundred.

  “I’m beginning to feel you might be right about idle chitchat, that it is, indeed, overrated,” she muttered, which earned a nod from him in return.

  “Of course I’m right.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Or perhaps I should amend that and say any attempt at idle chitchat with you is doomed to failure because you’re completely inept with it.”

  “I’m not inept. I simply don’t enjoy it.”

  “Then by all means, feel free to return to your mathematical equations. I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself.”

  “An excellent suggestion.” He closed his eyes and immediately began mouthing numbers instead of speaking them out loud, something that suggested he’d never realized how annoying his unusual habit was until she’d mentioned it, and was actually making an attempt not to annoy her.

  However, because the numbers were coming out of a mouth that appeared to be clenched, it was clear he wasn’t finding elusive mathematical equations to be the distraction he’d evidently been hoping for, something that left Beatrix smiling.

  Chapter 5

  “If you’ve neglected to notice, the train has stopped. I believe there’s now the expectation that we’re meant to get off the train, unless you’d like to continue on with whatever you seem to be in the midst of contemplating.”

  Norman’s eyes flashed open, disgruntlement running through him when he realized that the train had come to a stop, something he had neglected to notice.

  This curious lapse on his part was concerning, especially when he’d always prided himself on his observational skills—skills that seemed to be failing him rather spectacularly at the moment.

  It was also concerning that his attempt at distracting himself with his tried-and-true habit of dividing sums by three had not worked at all because while he had been trying to concentrate on numbers, thoughts of Beatrix had wormed their way through the numbers, or rather, the notion that she apparently found him lacking, or worse, inept.

  Pushing his disturbing thoughts aside as Beatrix got out of her seat and began moving down the aisle, Norman followed her, stepping off the train and on to a wooden sidewalk.

  “Do you think our original train finally made it here after being robbed, and if so, do you think we’ll find our luggage stowed somewhere?” she asked.

  “Only one way to find out.” He gestured her forward and began making his way through the crowd toward the main depot. When he realized Beatrix had broken into a trot to keep up with him and was rubbing her side, as if she’d developed a stitch, he slowed his pace.

  “Was I moving too quickly?”

  “Not if you believe we’re being chased by a pack of rabid wolves,” she returned, dashing a hand over a forehead that was now beaded with perspiration.

  His lips twitched. “Fortunately there are no wolves chasing us. I’m merely accustomed to moving quickly to save time.” He frowned. “Have you ever considered taking a daily run to improve your physical stamina? I run a few miles every day and find that activity to be greatly beneficial with keeping me in fine form.”

  “I’m not really keen to embrace an activity I feel is comparable to torture,” she said before she headed into the main depot and charged toward a man sitting behind a counter, moving remarkably fast for a woman who’d only recently suffered from a stitch in her side.

  By the time Norman reached her, she’d already informed the man about their run-in with train robbers, which had the man rising to his feet and escorting them into a nearby office.

  As the man hurried from the room, telling them he’d be back directly, Beatrix took a seat in front of a battered desk while Norman elected to remain standing.

  Men soon streamed in to join them, one of whom introduced himself as Agent Mahoney, a member of the Pinkerton Agency. Agent Mahoney immediately directed his attention to Beatrix, questioning her about the robbery.

  Beatrix didn’t hesitate to launch into an explanation about what had occurred, giving Agent Mahoney an excellent recollection of what the man who’d tried to take her reticule looked like, as well as giving a surprisingly detailed account of the second train robber who’d shot at them after they’d gotten off the train.

  Ten minutes later, she nodded to Norman. “Have I left anything out?”

  “I believe you were more than thorough with your recollection of the events that occurred. You did, however, neglect to disclose that your decision to turn your pistol purse on the robber escalated the danger we were in since I was of the belief, before you brought out your pistol, that the matter was soon to be resolved since the robber had possession of my satchel, which was what I’m convinced they were after in the first place.”

  Temper immediately flashed through Beatrix’s eyes. “Are you suggesting that everything that happened after I pulled out my pistol purse was my fault?”

  “It wasn’t a suggestion.”

  Her lips thinned. “Then allow me to counter with this—if you’d not snatched up your satchel after telling me we needed to get off the train, we would have never been chased by the other robbers, nor would we have had to duck a barrage of bullets as we tried to get away.”

  “We wouldn’t have experienced any of that if you’d only had the good sense to cooperate with the robber when he asked for your bag.”

  “I wasn’t giving him my bag. It’s sentimental to me, and—”

  Agent Mahoney held up his hand. “While I’m sure both of you have valid points, let’s return to the satchel for a moment. What did you have that these criminals wanted?”

  Norman settled his attention on Agent Mahoney. “Research papers.”

  “And these papers were pertaining to what?”

  “Electrical currents, or more specifically, my theory on how to rotate an electric field within a motor using an alternating current instead of a single current
. I’ve recently exchanged a brass ring for a steel one because brass is not magnetized, but I’m—”

  Norman stopped talking when Beatrix took to clearing her throat loudly. He frowned. “I say, Miss Waterbury, should we ask one of these men to fetch you a cup of tea? You seem to be having difficulties with your throat, no doubt brought about by how much smog is in the air today in Chicago.”

  Beatrix returned the frown. “I haven’t noticed an unusual amount of pollution in the air.”

  “Which is why it probably snuck up on you.” He nodded. “Unfortunately, pollution is often found in and around Chicago, what with how many ironworks and the like are operating at all hours.”

  “It wasn’t the smog that had me clearing my throat.”

  “Perhaps you’re coming down with a cold?”

  “I’m not coming down with a cold.” She turned to Agent Mahoney. “Was there any other information you needed?”

  Agent Mahoney looked up from the notes he’d been taking and smiled at Beatrix, a smile that, oddly enough, seemed to hold a trace of relief in it. “You’ve been more than helpful with your accounting of the troubling events you experienced.” He shot a glance to Norman. “As have you, of course, Mr. Nesbit.”

  Norman frowned. “But I didn’t finish explaining about my research papers.”

  Agent Mahoney looked at his notes, then lifted his head. “From what I could gather, they have something to do with electrical currents.”

  “That hardly does my research justice.” He drew in a breath and then launched into a detailed explanation regarding his theory but was forced to stop his explanation in midsentence when Beatrix began coughing in earnest, although it almost seemed as if her coughing had a rather theatrical ring to it.

  “Maybe we really should get someone to bring you a cup of tea,” he said.

  Beatrix waved that aside. “I’m fine, but before you return to explaining more about your research, which sounds downright titillating, I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that none of us have the least little idea what you’re going on about.”

  “I’ve made my explanations as simple as possible.”

  “Which would be lovely if any of us gathered here were fluent in electrical talk, which I’m confident with saying we’re not.”

  Norman nodded to Agent Mahoney. “But he asked me about the research papers.”

  “True,” Beatrix said. “However, I’m going to assume he only wanted a basic description of the contents of the research, something along the lines of—‘it’s electrical in nature.’”

  “That’s an insult to my research.”

  She released a breath. “Agent Mahoney doesn’t need all the details. He just needs to know the gist of your research so that if he happens to retrieve a leather satchel filled with papers on electrical currents, he’ll know it’s your satchel.”

  Norman blinked. “Oh.”

  “Exactly,” Beatrix said, returning her attention to Agent Mahoney. “And with that now settled, was there anything else you needed from us before we conclude this meeting?”

  Agent Mahoney looked through his notes again, then nodded to Norman. “I would like to know if you have any idea who might be behind the train heist. Any enemies or business associates who might want access to your research?”

  Norman nodded. “Quite a few names spring to mind.”

  Agent Mahoney flipped to a fresh piece of paper. “Ready when you are.”

  It took exactly nine and a half minutes to rattle off the list of men Norman thought could be considered suspects, although it would have only taken seven minutes and fifty-two seconds if Beatrix hadn’t distracted him when she’d accepted a cup of tea from one of the men who’d evidently decided her throat needed soothing, no matter her protest about that. She’d smiled so easily at the man that Norman had faltered in his recitation of names, until he’d realized that Agent Mahoney was about to tuck away his list of suspects, which had immediately brought Norman back to the situation at hand and had him continuing on.

  “Mr. Stephen Millersburg, who is currently working with Mr. Westinghouse, is the last gentleman I can think of who should be listed as a suspect. He was very interested in trying to secure my agreement to allow him to work with me on my research, going so far as to imply he and Mr. Westinghouse wouldn’t be opposed to paying me for what I’ve accomplished so far,” Norman finished, which had Agent Mahoney lifting his head after he’d scribbled that name on to his second-to-last sheet of blank paper.

  “You’ve given me almost a hundred names,” Agent Mahoney said.

  Norman shrugged. “It’s important research.”

  “Then here’s hoping we’ll be able to retrieve it for you,” Agent Mahoney said.

  “There’s no urgency with that,” Norman said. “I’m afraid I neglected to mention this earlier, but the research that was stolen was not my true research, merely a decoy in case someone tried to rob me. The only benefit from you being able to recover the satchel would be that it may very well lead to the culprits behind the robbery, which will then allow you to close your case.”

  “But this decoy research still had something to do with electricity?” Agent Mahoney asked.

  “Have a care with your questions, Agent Mahoney,” Beatrix said before Norman could respond. “Unless you’re willing to sit through another detailed explanation of how he purposefully flawed his research in case it was stolen, I think we should all agree that this would be the perfect time to end this meeting.”

  Norman was not amused when Agent Mahoney muttered, “Too right you are” under his breath, then closed his notepad with a snap and stood. He presented Beatrix with a bow. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Waterbury, although I’m sorry we had to meet under such unusual circumstances.”

  Beatrix smiled, which drew attention to a dimple that was right next to the freckle Norman had noticed earlier, although he’d not noticed the dimple until just then, and found it to be—

  “Perhaps we’ll meet again under normal circumstances,” Beatrix said, rising to her feet. “Do feel free to call on me if you need any other questions answered. I’ll be staying at my aunt Gladys’s house for the next few months.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Agent Mahoney said, opening up his notebook to the one and only page that still had some room on it. “I’ll just need your aunt Gladys’s address, as well as her full name.”

  Beatrix’s smile faded. “In all honesty, I don’t know my aunt’s address off the top of my head, and I’m afraid the scrap of paper on which I jotted that address down is long gone since I tossed it into the satchel Mr. Nesbit left behind for the train robbers.” She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Aunt Gladys was supposed to meet me here at the depot, but I don’t know if she’s still waiting for me, or if she came to the conclusion I’d missed my train and would arrive later.”

  “There’s no need for you to worry, Miss Waterbury,” Agent Mahoney said. “I am a Pinkerton detective after all, so if you’ll give me your aunt’s full name, I’ll find her address for you, as well as send someone to see if she might still be waiting for you here.”

  “That would be much appreciated, Agent Mahoney,” Beatrix returned. “My aunt’s name is Miss Gladys Huttleston, and I believe she lives at the north section of Hyde Park.”

  It took a great deal of effort for Norman to keep his mouth from dropping open. “Your aunt is Miss Huttleston?”

  Beatrix nodded. “She is. Are you acquainted with her?”

  “I believe most people in Chicago are acquainted with Miss Huttleston,” Norman said. “She enjoys a reputation of being somewhat . . . odd.”

  “Odd how?”

  Before Norman could respond, Agent Mahoney instructed one of the men in the room, a Mr. Engle, to find out what he could about Norman and Beatrix’s trunks, as well as ascertain whether or not Miss Huttleston was still waiting for her niece. After the man quit the room, Agent Mahoney turned back to Beatrix.

  “I’m certain we�
��ll soon have you on your way, but perhaps you’d be more comfortable retaking your seat and finishing your tea while we wait.”

  Beatrix sent the Pinkerton a most charming smile, one she’d never sent to Norman, as she retook her seat, where she and Agent Mahoney, who’d claimed the seat next to her, immediately began chatting as if they’d been friends forever, with Agent Mahoney going on and on about what sights Beatrix should make sure to take in during her stay in Chicago.

  “I’ll make certain to visit that Washington Park Club you mentioned,” Beatrix said five minutes later. “Although I am disappointed to learn that the American Derby occurs every June, since clearly I’ve missed it.”

  Before Norman could point out that the Washington Park Club was a racetrack that catered to the very well-heeled, of which she was apparently not, Mr. Engle hurried into the room. “Good news, Miss Waterbury. Your aunt was here. However, when she was informed by some of the other passengers that you’d departed from the train, she evidently decided to return home and took your trunks with her.” He sent Beatrix a weak smile. “And while I’m sure you must find that somewhat concerning, what with having your aunt mosey back home after discovering her niece was missing, Miss Huttleston did arrange to have a hansom cab made available for you if you eventually showed up here.”

  Beatrix’s brows drew together. “That is considerate of her, although I’m beginning to wonder if I’m going to be staying with her long, what with how she seemed less than concerned I was missing.”

  Mr. Engle nodded. “I’d be wondering the same.” He nodded to Norman. “We found your trunks as well, sir. They’re right outside.”

  “Then I suppose this is where all of us part ways,” Beatrix said briskly, setting aside her teacup and rising to her feet. She sent Norman a nod. “It’s been interesting, meeting you.”

  “And I can say the same of you, while also adding that our time together has seemed much longer than the single day it actually was.”

  “Has it really only been a day?”

  “Shocking, I know, but yes. However,” Norman continued, “before we part ways for good, if you’d be so kind as to allow me just another moment of your time, I feel compelled to revisit the subject of your aunt.” He arched a brow at Agent Mahoney, who immediately bobbed his head before he took hold of Beatrix’s hand, an action that left Norman feeling somewhat annoyed, although why that was, he couldn’t say.